


Foundation

by Dorksidefiker



Series: Metaphorgotten [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Abortion, sparkling fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25547542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker
Summary: It is absolutely vital to get things off on a good, solid foundation
Relationships: Rodimus/Thunderclash
Series: Metaphorgotten [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851259
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24
Collections: ThunderRod Week 2020





	Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> ThunderRod Week day 2: Build

The problem with refusing to speak at all about an oncoming sparkling was that once the sparkling was _there_ , one suddenly found oneself scrambling to set things up for that sparkling. Things like _names_. Rodimus insisted that a designation would come to them when the time was right, but Thunderclash was growing more and more certain that the poor thing was going to end up answering to _Scraplet_ , and damn Whirl for planting that idea in the minds of the crew.

The _other_ problem came in the form of furnishings. The first few weeks, it was just fine. The sparkling was either in Thunderclash's arms, or Rodimus'. When they recharged, he was on the chest of one or the other, absorbing warmth and the idea of what his frame should be from his creators.

But their little star's frame had cooled, armor forming around the already lengthy limbs of his protoform, coming in in brilliant scarlets, pristine whites, and soft golds. He didn't need the close proximity of his creators frames to tell him what shape to take anymore. He needed his own berth to recharge in, one suited to the needs of a growing sparkling.

Back in Iacon, the creators would have been planning for just this sort of thing even before the kindling of a newspark. Happy accidents like Thunderclash's little star were frowned upon, and a responsible mech was expected to wait until he had _everything_ prepared, even if it meant a discrete termination until a more appropriate time. But that wasn't how things were done in Nyon. All Rodimus would say was that it was bad luck, inviting trouble. When he'd talked about it with Ratchet, his friend had suggested that the people of Nyon had made a virtue out of necessity. Ratchet had seen the same superstitious slag in his Dead End clinic, he said. Thunderclash had thought of the glyphs Velocity had traced over his forge during his check ups, and said nothing.

There were, frankly, a lot of things he and Rodimus needed to talk about regarding the sparkling. How were they going to educate him? Send him to Cybertron, educate him on board? What faith would they raise him in, if any? Thunderclash was a lapsed Primalist, and he wasn't too sure how seriously Rodimus took his conversion to Spectralism-

Thunderclash vented slowing, off lining his optics. They would take things one step at a time. They were building the foundations of a new life, and they would make it solid.

And the first step on that road was building a berth for their sparkling to recharge on.

Young mechlings had specialized needs. Their frames were still growing, their armor still hardening. They needed carefully regulated current while their systems are still learning to do it for them, lest they short their systems out.

The instructions for building the berth seemed simple enough, which only put Thunderclash on edge. He'd suffered tnrough more than one 'simple build', only to have it malfunction, or turn into a death trap, or for it to never turn on at all.

That was how Rodimus found Thunderclash, after the end of his shift. The sparkling was safely ensconced with Drift, attempting to learn how to sit still. It should have given Rodimus a few minutes to apply decals to the new berth. Instead, the berth was still in pieces arrayed around Thunderclash as he inspected every piece for flaws.

"You're overthinking this."

Thunderclash didn't look up. "I'm being perfectly reasonable."

Rodimus picked up a multitool, giving the trigger an experimental squeeze. The screwdriver big whirred loudly, and he grabbed pieces of the frame. "It's a two hour job. You started it before my shift." He sat down, pulling the bag of screws over. "It's just a berth. When it's done, the kid will stop jabbing his elbow into my fuel tank and drooling on your audial."

"It's not just _a_ berth. It's not just _the_ berth. It's..."

"A metaphor?" Rodimus suggested, raising his voice to be heard over the multitool. "Something, something, foundations. Something, something, structure." He ran a hand over the joined together frame, tugging at it until he was sure it wasn't going to come apart.

"Not as eloquent as usual."

"Yeah, well. Drift writes my best material." Rodimus started on another side. "If you want analysis, go to Rung." He picked up a sheet of siding. "If you want wicked awesome flame decals, come to me."


End file.
